Silent Hill: The Redeemer
by ChrisRedfieldEvil
Summary: Henry Townshend just wants a new life, in a new town, in a new apartment. He starts to suspect that his new neighbor, Murphy Pendleton, harbors more secrets than he lets on. But as Henry and Murphy form a strange, erotic relationship, can Henry really trust what he sees? Or is he just a pawn in a much larger game? Rated M for sex, nudity, violence, and shower scenes, hurrah.


Henry Townshend blushed as he unfurled the letter from Eileen. His eyes consumed the words, each one written with loving precision, as only Eileen could. _I know you're not one for texting_, she began, _You probably don't even know what texting is. But I'm thinking of you. I always will. South Ashfield won't be the same. I hope you find peace in your new home. Take care of yourself, you big weirdo. Love. -E.G._

Henry pressed the lined paper to his nose and felt himself grow skyward, tall enough for his hair to graze the underside of the moon. He could have stayed in that dopey state for the rest of the day, but a low voice interrupted him.

"You mind?"

Henry remembered that he was blocking the door of 12 Copeland Avenue, a two-story, ivy-shrouded Victorian home. Henry had only taken ownership of the second floor apartment the week before. His landlady, an unbearably perky woman with blood-colored hair, had told him the first floor was still vacant. _Until now_, Henry thought.

A man stood before him, his face obscured by a stack of banker's boxes clutched between two tanned, ropey arms.

"Let me help you," Henry breathed as he reached for the top box.

The man turned to avoid him. "No, I got it-"

"Really, please," said Henry. He took the top box into his own arms, revealing the face behind it. This other man was taller - 6'4, if Henry had to guess - and maybe a handful of years older than Henry. He had a lean, rock climber's build, but the man looked rougher than that, an outdoorsman, perhaps, a survivalist. That much was clear by the deep scar under his right eye, and the chiselled jaw so perfect it could cut diamond. Henry found himself blushing. The man was clearly attractive, and rugged, but he didn't look especially patient.

"Thanks," the man eventually managed. He started toward the front door, eager to end their awkward tableau on the porch.

"I'm, uh- I'm Henry."

"You gonna get that?"

"Oh, sure. Uh, sorry."

Henry balanced the box until his free hand opened their front door. They stepped into the foyer which split off in three different directions: the door to Henry's apartment on the second floor, the door to the main floor apartment, and the door leading into the basement. Henry hadn't seen that yet. Basements made him uneasy.

"I'm living a-above you," Henry fought to say, wishing harder than ever that he hadn't skipped out on the elocution lessons he was assigned as a child to overcome his stuttering.

"Yeah?" the man said, digging into his pockets and revealing a set of his keys. He flicked through them with one hand, concentrating. "Good for you."

Henry watched the man unlock his apartment. Through the entry he could see that the main floor layout, even in its emptiness, was near identical to his own. The man dumped the box in the hall and motioned for Henry to do the same. Henry took a few hesitant steps inside and placed the box neatly onto the floor.

The man watched this, and even without making noise, he seemed to sigh.

"Look. My name is Murphy. And I'm living here now. The way I see it, those are the only two things you need to know about me for as long as either of us are in this house. We clear?"

Murphy's bluntness made the corners of Henry's mouth twist. He didn't know what to expect in a neighbor when he moved from South Ashfield Heights, but it certainly wasn't anyone like this.

Henry nodded. "Clear. Crystal, even."

* * *

Henry had only cracked open the first page of The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay when a furious knock jolted the book out of his hands. He had hoped to spend the rest of the night reading, drinking tea and maybe falling asleep on his couch under a blanket. _You know, regular guy things, _he thought.

The rapping was coming from his front door, which was at the bottom of a flight of stairs. Henry uneasily made his way down the steps when a voice barked through the solid pine of the door.

"Henry. HENRY!"

Henry threw upon his door in a panic and nearly lost his balance at what he saw.

Murphy stood in his doorway, dripping wet in nothing but a blue towel wrapped around his waist. Although Murphy looked furious, Henry couldn't help but gawk at his sprinkling of chest hair. It was matted down flat and wet against Murphy's lean torso. Murphy's hair, which had looked ash brown in the sunlight, was now damp, almost pitch black against his face. Water was still dripping down Murphy's muscular thighs and calves, pooling around his feet. It was a cool night in the house, and steam was rising off the man's glistening body.

"M-Murphy, I- what's wrong? You're-"

"Fucking pissed."

"I was going to say 'naked'."

"What the hell were you doing ringing my doorbell?" Murphy barked at him.

"Your what?"

"Don't act stupid with me, kid."

"I'm twenty-eight."

Murphy advanced. Henry backed away a step and lost balance, falling backward onto his stairwell. Murphy took another step closer. Henry tried not to look - _Oh, heaven help me, I really did try - _but he couldn't help but notice the flash of skin that emerged from the crease of Murphy's towel. Henry didn't have a mirror on him but he could only assume that his face was a deep tomato red.

"I don't like games, and I don't like being lied to. You rang my doorbell, I answered, you were gone. Then you rang it again, and, well, fool me once. I go to take a shower and again, I hear that fucking bell!"

"It wasn't me," Henry said as evenly as he could, "I haven't left my apartment all day."

"That bell is right outside my door in the foyer. The one on the porch goes to your apartment. The only person who could ring mine is someone who's already inside the house. I don't see any-fucking-one else living here, do you?"

"No! But it wasn't me! I wouldn't- I haven't done anything!"

"You think this is funny?" Murphy stabbed a finger at Henry's bewildered face, "I've been to places that can break you in every single way a man can be broken. I didn't escape that life to live with some fucking punk who gets off on pulling pranks with me. You don't want to know the things I've done to men who've pissed me off less than this."

Henry was honestly speechless. His genuine confusion must have registered with Murphy, because after a few breathless moments, the man in the towel backed off and took a breath.

"You're sure. You're sure that wasn't you?"

"I'm sure. I-I didn't hear anything. I was reading."

A moment passed. Something imperceptible and quick flashed across Murphy's face. It almost looked like a grin.

"Reading," Murphy repeated. "Alright then."

Murphy extended a hand. It took Henry a couple of beats to realize that he was trying to help him up. Henry nearly froze at the other man's touch. Murphy wasn't cold, far from it, actually. He was warm, wet. Pleasant. As Henry got to his feet, he got a whiff of body wash.

Murphy looked, if not embarrassed, then mildly apologetic. "Maybe I was just hearing things. The TV. Radio."

Henry's heart beat was returning to normal. "Something must be wrong with that radio. M-Might want to fix that."

The blink-and-you'll-miss-it grin returned to Murphy's face, and Henry felt himself relax.

"Look. Uh, I'm sorry," Murphy offered. He rubbed the worry lines in his forehead. "New move, new town, and everything. Guess I'm a little frazzled. Been a tough few months. I took some out of that on you, I think."

Henry smirked, "Maybe… just a little."

"I shouldn't have said those things to you. It won't happen again."

Another beat of silence grew between them. Henry's eyes traced a trail of soup suds flicking down the side of Murphy's flat stomach.

"Hey, you should probably, um, go finish that," Henry pointed to Murphy's side and mimed a scrubbing motion. Murphy looked down at his body and, perhaps for the first time, saw that he was practically naked.

"Shit. Right," Murphy bolted for his apartment, but turned around before reaching his door. "Almost forgot. Henry, right? Think some of your mail got mixed in with mine. It's just on my kitchen counter if you wanted to come in and grab it."

"Oh," Henry said and stood a little too quickly. He didn't realize until he entered Murphy's apartment that he never gave a yes or no answer. The place was still scattershot and bare the way new apartments tended to be, but more lived-in compared to what he had seen when Murphy moved in a few days before. Half-empty cereal bowls littered the sink, and Henry had to nudge away a pair of slippers on his way to the kitchen.

Murphy cracked open his bathroom and Henry heard the noise of his still-running shower as Murphy slipped back inside. "Just close the front door on your way out," his voice called. Henry heard the clinking of metal shower curtain rings being thrown aside and then pulled back into place.

Henry's hand went for the pile of stamped envelopes on the counter, but his eye was drawn to a photo frame lying sideways beside it. He knew, even as he reached for it, that he was being unspeakably rude, but his inquisitive nature had always gotten the best of him. _Hell_, he thought, _I'd still be in room 302 if I didn't start getting nosy with my surroundings..._

Henry wiped at the grimy glass to find a faded 9x11 photo. It was Murphy standing in a sunny park, at least 5 or 6 years younger. His arm was around a small boy. _Looks an awful lot like him, _Henry thought.

A noise from the bathroom made Henry jump. It sounded like a tap was being twisted and turned off, followed by the ceasing shower. As if controlled by another force, Henry crept toward the bathroom and found the door hanging slightly ajar. A wave of steam rose into the hall. It smelled soapy, intoxicating, almost. Swallowing his nervousness, Henry leaned in toward the door crease and watched Murphy step out of his shower, wet, and now completely nude. Henry anxiously watched water droplets tickle down Murphy's broad back and onto his plump, athletic ass. As Murphy turned to grab a towel, Henry ducked on reflex, but Murphy didn't seem to notice him. The man towelled himself dry, playing close attention to his thick cock and balls. Henry's mouth widened slightly watching Murphy's cock hit his thigh as he turned from side to side.

Murphy's body was perfect, like a marble Greek god come to life - which made it all the more unpleasant when Henry's foot hit the leg of a bar stool next to him.

Murphy's head raised to the door. "Henry?"

Wrapping the towel around his waist, he nudged the door wide until his head was poking into his apartment. "Henry?" he repeated, moments before the front door slammed shut.

* * *

Henry's race to his apartment was a blur of adrenaline and shame. He barely understood what he was doing until he had reached the top of his stairs and faced his living room exactly as he had left it: his copy of Kavalier and Clay lying slanted off his grey sofa. As Henry went to grab the book, he felt his hands already clutching something.

"Oh, shit. Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck me, no!"

He was still holding onto Murphy's photo.

Henry sighed out loud, "That won't be awkward to return."

He ran his thumb over the glass again, staring into the eyes of the young, strangely gloomy-looking boy in Murphy's arms. He looked like he could have been Murphy's own son.

Henry turned the frame around and noticed a peculiar flap sticking out from the plastic edge. It looked like a piece of paper had been caught between the frame and the picture. He began to unscrew the frame, hesitant at first, but then quicker.

_If I'm going to be nosy, and a pervert, I might as well go the full nine yards._

Henry loosened the frame and was surprised when a thick brochure slipped out. He had expected a note or a letter, but this looked like... almost like...

"Toluca County Road Map?" Henry read the brochure title as a question he hoped he would never have to answer. The words crashed against him like leaden balloons. Toluca County and _that place_ were on the other side of the country; he had deliberately put as much distance as he could between himself and... and...

_And __**there**__._

Henry knew he should have thrown it down, tore it up, or burned it, but something compelled him to unfold that damn road map. It might have been a total coincidence that Murphy had this thing - Toluca County was a tourist destination after all, with lots of livable towns and surrounding boroughs.

_Brahms, Shepherd's Glen... _Henry thought as his shaking hands unfolded the thick paper. _Fairsborough, Hollow Springs. Murphy could be... he probably just... _

As Henry laid the map flat onto his coffee table and saw the entire town of Silent Hill marked off in red pen, he knew that he and his handsome new neighbor would have a lot talk about the next time they saw each other.

He took a step back and craned his head to the sky, sighing deeply.

_What the hell?_


End file.
